


i think of what the world could be

by braille_upon_my_skin



Series: the world we're gonna make [8]
Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: M/M, Warning for a depiction and discussion of child abuse.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 18:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13863768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braille_upon_my_skin/pseuds/braille_upon_my_skin
Summary: Phillip lifts a hand to Barnum's hair, and Barnum relaxes into the touch, his eyes closing as he wordlessly allows Phillip to comb dripping fingers through the dark waves. "You worry about me," Phillip murmurs softly."It all comes with the part," Barnum replies."And, which part would that be?"Barnum laughs low in his throat, though his smile is sincere. "Your partner, of course."





	i think of what the world could be

**Author's Note:**

> I feel a need to apologize for this. I seem to have a soft spot for my OTPs having cozy conversations that lead to emotional revelations while they're bathing together. There also isn't much of a plot to speak of, and... I'm sorry. Truly.

 

\----

 

Phillip winces when the water hits his waist.

"Ah, see what downplaying things gets you?" Barnum chides with an affectionate clucking of his tongue.

"As if you're one to talk," Phillip retorts.

A hot bath is a luxury earnestly welcomed on _any_ day, especially a frigid mid-winter one that topped off with a hangover and a general sense of all over soreness following a liquor-induced slumber seated upright at a desk.

The bruises on Phillip's backside, however, courtesy of a collision with an armoire, are not so inclined to extend the same warm reception to the hot bathwater.

Regardless, Phillip submerges his body up to his shoulders, enduring the burn as his skin adjusts to the heat. He heaves out a sigh as he lists against the side of the bathtub, only to grimace at the iciness of the porcelain against his back. "Well?" He says, turning an expectant stare on the still clothed ringmaster standing outside of the tub. "I believe I recall you saying you would be joining me."

"And, who would I be to deny you?" Barnum teases, already pulling at the knot of his tie.

Phillip is tempted to climb out to assist Barnum in the removal of his clothing and ensure that the man isn't allowed the opportunity to protract his undressing, as he has been known to do purely for the sake of riling Phillip, who _does_ tend to get the _slightest bit_ impatient in circumstances that necessitate prompt disrobing. But, the air outside of the tub is cold, enough that the hairs on Phillip's arms prickle even when partially submerged, and Phillip's body has more than acclimatized to the bathwater, embracing its heat like that of a warm blanket swathing him. Therefore, from an entirely objective standpoint, staying put is the only logical and reasonable solution.

Even though he _would_ _love_ to tear Barnum's clothes off.

He remains where he is, watching with undisguised interest as Barnum relieves himself of one layer of clothing after the other. His intrigue naturally doesn't escape Barnum's notice. The man's infuriating- and infuriatingly _tantalizing_ \- smirk works its way across his face as he drags the removal of his trousers and underwear out to a maddening, torturous degree, taking his time pulling the legs of his trousers off individually.

" _Barnum_ ," Phillip almost growls, feeling his blood heat in his veins.

A chuckle comes from the horrifically vexing showman, and Phillip decides that some bargaining is in order.

"I suppose I'll have to bathe _myself_ , then," he says, giving his body a long, luxurious stretch. "As it seems there's _hardly_ room for both of us in here, and the water is _already_ getting cold."

The harsh slap of fabric against the floor hits Phillip's ears. He feels his own smirk unfurling, accompanied by a strong sense of pride, as Barnum's large body crowds into the tub with him. Truth be told, there really isn't enough room for the both of them, but they make do, Barnum lying against Phillip's chest as his feet poke out over the edges of the tub.

Phillip lifts a hand to Barnum's hair, and Barnum relaxes into the touch, his eyes closing as he wordlessly allows Phillip to comb dripping fingers through the dark waves. "You worry about me," Phillip murmurs softly.

"It all comes with the part," Barnum replies.

"And, which part would that be?"

Barnum laughs low in his throat, though his smile is sincere. "Your partner, of course. Though, as the head of this company, it's my responsibility to look after all of my hires."

Water splashes gently against Phillip's chest and ribs as Barnum shifts, finding a more comfortable position.

"True as that may be… I hate seeing you get so worked up over a man who has no impact on our lives."

"Oh, Phillip."  Barnum's voice drops, and a sadness steals into his tone that has Phillip's heart dropping, as well. He opens his eyes and peers up at Phillip, those familiar creases forming on his brow. "You know that's not true. The way you practically flinched when I raised my voice… "

Phillip remains silent, the muscles in his jaw and throat flexing as he swallows. He wishes he had never made Barnum privy to that side of him- that vulnerability, that _weakness_ that still persists. No one ever needed to catch so much as a _glimpse_ of the frightened little boy hidden within the confident adult man. The boy who cowered and couldn't bear to meet his father's eyes if he came in the door after a day of play with dirt and grass stains on the knees of his trousers. The boy who spent countless days dreading the unforgiving smack of a ruler against the back of his hand if he zoned out during one of his lessons. The boy who did, indeed, _flinch_ , and curled protectively into himself after every cuff on the head he received for smiling at the "wrong" person, or talking out of turn, or "shaming" his parents by staring too long at a man across the room who happened to catch his eye.  

The boy who still startles at loud noises and wants nothing more than to hide himself away when someone raises their voice, as yelling leads to outbursts of snarling rage that have Phillip backed into a corner as his father…

"Phil? Are you still with me?"

Phillip extricates himself from those bitter, shameful memories, and lets a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "I suppose I can't completely divorce myself from my parents," he admits, his voice the slightest bit unsteady and his inflection acerbic. "I carry the lessons they imparted with me wherever I go."

"'Lessons'." Barnum gives a contemptuous snort. "About the only worthwhile lesson they ever taught you, was to think, feel, and live the exact _opposite_ of the way they do."

Phillip's smile widens, transforming into a genuine one, and he leans in to brush his lips against Barnum's wet hair. "I doubt your daughters' future partners would ever say such a thing about you," he says, kissing Barnum's hairline.

"I should certainly hope not. I meant it when I said that no man who so much as entertains the idea of harming his child, through his words _or_ his actions, has any business being a father. And, helping to create a life doesn't make you qualified to be a parent."

Surprise fires off as a pang in Phillip's chest. "I've… " He traces a cord of muscle in Barnum's bicep absently, aware of the hazel eyes peering right through him. "You're the first person I've ever heard say something like that."

"Considering the 'values' upheld by _that_ part of society, I'm not surprised." Barnum sits up and readjusts their positions to pull Phillip into him. He begins kneading at Phillip's neck and shoulders, and, once more, Phillip melts against him, his eyelids falling over his eyes.

He suddenly feels very tired. And, very _safe_. As if his father is a million miles and a lifetime away.

"You see," Barnum goes on, his voice soothing low notes, a sort of sumptuous croon in Phillip's ear. "When you don't have certain rules and strictures to adhere to, a family or a parent can be anyone who cares for you and has your happiness and best interests at heart. They don't have to have the same blood coursing through their veins."

"Oh?" Is the only response Phillip can think of. Barnum's fingers are rubbing circular patterns into the connective tissue between his neck and shoulders, and it feels _amazing._ Pleasant heat flutters in Phillip's stomach, and he squeezes at Barnum's thigh, holding back a contented moan.

"If your parents weren't so up their own asses they brought a son into the world for the sole purpose of perpetuating their 'legacy', they might have thought to give you away to someone who would have actually taken care of you."

"Like you do?" Phillip inquires without thinking. The connotations of that question hit him like a punch to the gut, and his face flares with heat. "Not that our relationship is at all paternal."

"Would it be so bad if it is?" Barnum asks, his voice the quietest and least confident Phillip has ever heard it.

Phillip's chest constricts, his stomach wrenching and heart being wrung out until it aches. He doesn't know how to answer. Where to begin to.

"Our… partnership is its own thing," Barnum murmurs.

"It is," Phillip assures him, perhaps too swiftly. "It is, and…" He presses a messy kiss to Barnum's mouth, placing a hand on the base of the older man's neck and pulling him in as close as possible, suddenly _needing_ to anchor himself to him, overcome with a fear that he has driven a wedge between them in his thoughtlessness. "I _love_ it," he promises. "I love what we have, Phineas, and-- "

Barnum smiles and brushes the tip of his nose against Phillip's. "Phillip, Phil, darling. Breathe."

Phillip obeys, drawing in a jerking breath.

Hand sliding up, into Phillip's hair, Barnum soothes, "Love comes in many forms. You know this as well as I do. Our partnership doesn't have to be defined by someone else's rules."

"Right. Yes," Phillip manages with a shaky nod.

"I will be whatever you need me to be," Barnum says, and Phillip knows that it's a vow, as concrete as the ones taken by a husband and wife at the alter.

A vow he is equally ready to make, and has been for what feels like a lifetime. "So will I. For _you_ , I mean."

Barnum's lips twitch into a smile. He nudges the tip of his nose against Phillip's, thumb tracing Phillip's sideburn. "For me," he murmurs. "As if you haven't already given me so much."

"Phin… " Phillip's heart is quaking and swelling and fitting to burst.

Barnum kisses him again, and Phillip leans in, angling his body into Barnum's to deepen the kiss. Right as his tongue slips between Phillip's lips, Barnum begins to pull back. Phillip follows automatically, whining softly in protest. He ends up chest to chest with Barnum, practically in the older man's lap, hands roaming over Barnum's shoulders and shivering delightedly at the callused fingers ghosting over the bruise near his tailbone.

When they part, it's gradual, and Phillip stares up at Barnum from underneath of his eyelashes. Comfort washes over him at the sight of the man's smile, brilliant even in its softer, milder state. "Mm," he hums, his hands trailing down Barnum's biceps to his chest. He splays his palms and fingers flat over Barnum's pectorals, just rubbing the sparse hair curling over the soft, warm flesh and solid muscle. "I think we should maybe consider actually _bathing_ before we find ourselves sitting in a tub of ice water."

Barnum laughs. "Always the logical one, Phil."

"One of us has to be."

A light pat to Phillip's cheek is Barnum's response, and Phillip grins.

They take turns washing one another's hair. Phillip all but mewls with bliss under Barnum's tender ministrations and the sensation of the ringmaster's long, dextrous fingers massaging his scalp.

When it's Barnum's turn, Phillip takes care to rub at his temples and smooth the creases in his forehead. His heart overflows, spilling into his stomach and pumping so many emotions into his veins and arteries to circumnavigate the whole of him. The strongest emotion is the one he voices: "I love you. I… I would rewrite the stars for you, Phin."

Vocalizing the sentiment gives it power; the power to hurt and break him. He feels himself trembling under its weight and potency, and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Barnum's strong arms reach up and pull Phillip's face down to meet his in another kiss. He breaks off, only to kiss Phillip's chin and his nose. "You should already know I feel the same about you," he says, a soft light illuminating the darkness of his irises.

Phillip melts against him, joining their mouths and pouring as much of himself into the lip-lock as he can. Moisture slips down his cheeks and he cannot tell if it's from the condensation in the air, his still wet hair, or the streaming rivulets of his tears. His heart pounds, aches, and soars as his hands slide down Barnum's chest and Barnum's fingers tangle in his hair.

They break the kiss with a soft, wet, smacking sound, and Barnum says with a cheeky smile, "I'm… fairly certain all of the blood in my body has rushed to my head."

"Oh, for Christ's sake… " Phillip lets the rest of the reprimand trail off as he helps Barnum into an upright position. "Why did it have to be you?" He laments half-heartedly.

Barnum gives a simple, easygoing shrug. "Because you're finally living a little crazy."

The truth of that statement resonates throughout Phillip, and he finds himself unable to offer up a rebuttal- not _wanting_ to. He merely smiles and snags a washcloth and the bar of soap.

They finish bathing quickly after that, the water genuinely cooling down and making getting out of the tub a priority. As the bathwater drains, they towel each other off and Phillip luxuriates in the kisses littered over his forehead, hairline, and the scar right by it, nose and lips, and revels in the softness of the towel as it is rubbed over his skin. 

He scrubs gently at Barnum's mess of hair, not wanting to leave it damp and risk the older man catching a cold, and keeps him in place with a pointed stare and arcing of his eyebrows when Barnum attempts to hurry off to pace about and dream up a menagerie of wild ideas that Phillip will have to talk him out of… or at least attempt to negotiate through. "It is mid-December and there's at least six inches of snow on the ground. You aren't going _anywhere_ until your hair is dry."

"Yes, darling," Barnum says with a chuckle, eyes crinkling with amusement.

Phillip huffs out an exasperated sigh, but it is almost entirely for show.

Snuggled up in his too small bed, Phillip lying against Barnum's shoulder, Phillip finds his concentration on his fourth read-through of _Macbeth_ repeatedly broken by the ringmaster's presence; the warmth of his skin, the sound of his breathing, the sensation of Barnum peering over Phillip's shoulder to skim the play's text and mention that the quality of the production would have been vastly improved by an actual army of trees laying siege to Macbeth's kingdom, which is so ridiculous and so Phineas Barnum that Phillip can't help but smile. Finally, Phillip abandons Shakespeare and ventures, "You know about my upbringing. I want to hear about _your_ past. Your adventures on the Great American Railroad."

"'Adventures' might be a bit of an exaggeration."

Phillip mulls that dismissive comment over and presses, "Regardless, the humble origins of the extraordinary P.T. Barnum are something I have a great deal of investment in." Because this man saved his life. Because he filled it with things Phillip never imagined could be his own in the world he previously inhabited, when he was still locked in a cage.

 Reassured that the person he is about to divulge his life story to will not shame, mock, or denigrate him, Barnum lets _that smirk_ paint his face. "Well… if you _insist_."

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
